


I Don't Pray That Way

by Diana_Prallon



Series: The Four Faces of The Godess [33]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Age Difference, Canon Era, Creepy, F/M, POV Second Person, Rape/Non-con Elements, Secret Crush, Stalking, Unrequited, Watching Someone Sleep, era appropriate mysogeny
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-29
Updated: 2015-09-29
Packaged: 2018-04-23 23:30:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4896451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Diana_Prallon/pseuds/Diana_Prallon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some might hail her porcelain skin, or her raven locks, or the pale lips. Lower men might worship at her curves, the slender hips, long legs, perky breasts. Others might fear her forcefulness, the way she fights through life and wins, how she faces it all — or want it, want to tame it.</p>
<p>You are not like them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Don't Pray That Way

**Author's Note:**

> I'd advise caution on this - read the tags, consider the triggers. 
> 
> There's nothing outright written about non-con, but the undertones exist anyway. The mysogeny is strong, although era-appropriate. 
> 
> Written for Lian, who's a terrible influence.

 

You lived a long life, and you had known many women in it — but never one like this.

There’s something about her — the sea storm in her eyes, the firm traces of her jaw, the haughtiness of her nose — that sets her apart. Some might hail her porcelain skin, or her raven locks, or the pale lips. Lower men might worship at her curves, the slender hips, long legs, perky breasts. Others might fear her forcefulness, the way she fights through life and wins, how she faces it all — or want it, want to tame it.

You are not like them.

You love her quiet — and quietly.

You love her sleeping form, silent and quiet in the darkness of the chamber. You love the lace against her skin, marked down with sweat. You love her limbs stiff, her eyes closed. You love her terrified gasps, and the tangled sheets around her.

You love to see her like this — so small, so terrified.

You know it is wrong, you know it is dark — but you can’t help it. Every man must be allowed his own dark secrets — the ones they would never put into words.

Morgana is yours, unknowing, uncaring, unwilling.

She is the face of all the women you loved and lost before — the faces of the women who yielded so much more power than you ever could, who were so much more than you ever would be. Women you could never upstage.

This was before — now, you’ve helped to create a world in which such women can’t be.

Morgana is everything they should have been — helpless, innocent, dependent.

She needs you, and you relish in the knowledge was you watch her sleep.

All that power, locked in — put in its rightful place, under control, under your wing.

She suffered, but you loved it.

* * *

 

You loved her as a child — before she became this. You had seen her and imagined it to be the future, as she was taken away from swords and horses, tucked into dresses and embroidery.

She was the proof of everything you had fought so long to guarantee.

Then, as she grew and the force inside her blossomed into something stained, you fought to keep her away from it. Away from the power that corrupts young innocent women and make them think of things they shouldn’t think.

Seven years, and she still didn’t know — this is your victory. You can enjoy every single night by her side, and you cherish it.

Your eyes roam through her figure, taking in the accelerated heartbeat, the movements of the eyelids. You wonder what heresy she might be drowning into, and then discard it as irrelevant.

Morgana will do knowing with her knowledge, because you won’t allow it.

And you will call it love.

* * *

 

You loved and lied, and used everything in your power to keep her in the dark. In the dark, where you could watch, where you could lead. In the dark where she had no one else to turn to. In the dark, and unknowing, her legacy withering through each night and each dream going unheard.

You loved her as she lost her mind. You loved her as she hated. You loved her even when the nightmares went away, when the other witch took away your comfort in watching her squirming; when the damned, heathen triple goddess laid her protection on her  — as if yours wasn't enough, as if yours wasn't worth it, nothing but the hubris of men. 

You loved her in silence, and played your cards, bidding your time. It would come.

And as she screamed her heart out, cursing everything around you, you loved her still — with fire, with hatred, with everything that she now was and should have never been, because she had been yours to play, yours to control, yours to lie to.

Only yours to taint.


End file.
